


Restrictions

by IdlePace



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Flogging, Lingerie, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdlePace/pseuds/IdlePace





	Restrictions

“You’re not listening, Rythian.”

Light strips of leather slid down his sweat dotted skin, leaving ghosting sensations. It made him shiver in place and crave to scratch and dig at his skin to scare the feeling away, but his hands couldn’t even come close to the rest of his body. Another violent yank could only move the platform he was bound to. His fingers skidded up the smooth wood of the coffee table, Rythian was beginning to become more accustomed to them than his own legs.

Wanting to call the situation makeshift would only cover his deep desire of wishing it to be so, but he couldn’t ignore the sobering knowledge of the prepared tools. Sleek was not a word he wanted to describe the rope around his wrists, ankles, and hips, but the amount of wriggling he did to escape them, only brushed his skin closer to the smooth fibers.

The silk tie had long ago fallen from the place on his eyes. Each blink reminded him of it, gracing his eyelashes and blocking the bottom of his sight. Part of him wished he could see his own body, watch over what was happening to it. He could only hedge his bets on how red his skin was, what marks and shapes would be left.

“Listen harder!”

Coming together in the force of a swing, the parted leather slammed against his arm. The sound cracking centimetres away from his ear. Pulling his lips tightly together, Rythian held in any verbal reaction his instincts begged him to make.

“Good boy…” The voice purred with sweet notes as a hand drew up Rythian’s sternum, circling a relaxed finger around a nipple.

Swallowing back thick saliva, Rythian tried to have his voice heard above the stinging of his body. “La-lalna…”

Watching the swift rise of the other man’s arm, Rythian turned his head away, not needing to see the impact to know it was happening. Cold leather again, and Rythian could almost count the number of strips to the flogger, each splaying out along his inner arm.

“Wrong name, Rythian.” Lalna’s teeth virtually glowed in the dim lighting. His smile grew to a pout, to hush sounds that were not there. “You know what you’re to call me, don’t you? Come on, be the good boy I know you want to be and say it.”

Dropping his head down, lower for his ear to pick up the sounds he desired, any lower and Rythian could almost lurch up and bite his earlobe. Lalna knew the perfect angles, and used them liberally. Rythian was well aware his patience didn’t stream long, but he’d wait as long as it took, to hear him even just mutter what he was compelled to say.

Clearing his throat of previous cries and shrill sounds of desperation, Rythian let his sight dart again for his pride to let him speak it. “… Master.” The breath tasted sour, yet the knuckles rolling along his stomach pushed out more. “I-I am good… master.”

Lalna stood up with a twisted giggle, considerably pleased by the outcome. Even with an added sharp tug at his restraints, Rythian remained immobile. A heated sigh down his chin and he let his shoulders relax for the moment. With his arms raised above his head and bound securely, any second to himself was used to care for the ache in his muscles. More than anything he needed to stretch and ward off further pains, particularly for his long legs that were forced to bend so his feet could properly meet that of the coffee table’s.

Licking nervously at his dry cracked lips, he struggled to lift his back off the unforgiving flat surface. His spine burned from the pressure and popped bones in place. The clear paint coat on the top of the table stuck to his skin, each lift causing a peel, and more than welcoming to suck him back down. Hearing his knees click for the countless time since he was forced to the living room furniture, Rythian tried not to remember how exposed he was, his body becoming the new table spread. 

“Rythian,” The named ended in an overly playful whine, “You haven’t complimented my outfit yet.” The tie that long ago fell out of place, slithered off of Rythian’s skin, pulled agonizingly slowly for an effect Lalna knew it would bring. “I dressed up so nice for you, and you haven’t said a thing about it.”

Fabric away, and Rythian could see down his body once more. Nail marks on his stomach, pushed in deep and dragged down. Knees were reddened and bruised from the beginning of it all, as he was forced to the ground for his hands to be tied. He could feel his body swell with each breath, pain more apparent as he could finally visualize the damage done.

A click of tongue beside him, and Rythian knew Lalna’s patience was growing thin yet again. It would soon snap, as Rythian knew he couldn’t bring his sight to the man’s attire again. Only close his eyes, turn his head, and pretend he could disappear.

“You’re always so bad at following orders, aren’t you?” Fingers clamped under Rythian’s chin, tensing directly to the bone, blazing from the pressure. A quick jerk and more pain flared at the tendons in his neck, the stress of his body now twisting with him. Hot damp air billowed at his eyelids, the giveaway at Lalna’s close proximity. “Only good boys, who do what I tell them, get rewards.”

Fingers excruciatingly slow, played along Rythian’s leg hair. Up the curled shin hair, dawdling on the malleable thigh, to reach its place, sliding along the curved bend where thigh met pelvis. “Look at me Rythian.”

The hold was expected to increase, but with the words, movement was dormant. Rythian knew this segmented from the other man’s plan, to make him look at his own will. This answer, was one he would wait endlessly for.

Rythian’s eyes opened, his struggle to ignore the moment could last no longer. The reality struck hard as Lalna released his chin to give a bouncy twirl. Sheer pink fabric from the babydoll that draped down his chest, parted easily at the peak of his stomach, letting pale skin push through. The frilled ends and bow in the center of the cups took Rythian’s mind away in a silent moment, the bright softness making him forget the pain of his body.

Curiosity forced Rythian to bite his tongue as his eyes drifted down to the frill fitted panties. He rushed to stop himself from a casual comment about the lingerie matching, as his mind was hurled back to the situation as a twisted furry ended crop came into view.

“Like what you see Rythian?” The question buzzed through the air as an electric snap, scorching the bound man’s face more than he wanted to admit. Fluffed fibres skimmed down his neck, gently pressing back up to his cheek to turn his sight. “Here’s how it going to go…” Lalna’s voice dripped with nasty motives.

“I want your body to remember me. For weeks, months after. For each little mark to make you remember this exact moment.” The crop slid under Rythian’s knee, purposefully tickling his senses. “This moment, where you are totally, under my control…” Lalna’s eyes read as calm, his voice did not alter, even as his nails dug once more at Rythian’s ribs. “You’re so helpless… I can do anything I want to you, and there’s so much I want to do…”

Voice to the captive audience’s ear, and Lalna’s low tones continued their false calm, stark contrast from his words. “Can you feel your heart race..?” Swallowing deliberately was over lit firecrackers in Rythian’s head. “How does it feel Rythian… huh? You’re mine now, and you’re not leaving until I’m satisfied.”

One more wasted tug on the restraints, accepting his surreal fate lacked any taste. A laugh at the side of his face, and Rythian’s mind swirled. Everything was in place, yet one factor stuck out from the rest.

“You’ll be bruised, sore, and then maybe, I’ll be done with you.” Pulling back to his stout height, with a grin highlighting his features in the mood set lighting, the crop moved to his grip again. “Now Rythian… are you ready?”

Mind spinning, but still the factor broke his moment. Rythian gritted his teeth, rolled his head with a groan, and cleared his throat for the answer.

“Pumpernickel.”

Lalna’s eyes popped to attention, as his chin fell. His knees collided with the floor before he found breath. Hands to the rope and each knot fell loose with swift flicks of his fingers. “Are you alright? Did I go too far? Did I say something you didn’t like?”

Questions poured from Lalna as Rythian sat up, rubbing his wrists waiting on his feet to be unbound next. “No, you were perfect.” A head on his lap struck as much comfort as the ability to stretch his legs again. Warm breath on his skin, peaceful and paced, it helped bring everything back to reality.

“Are you tired? Did you want a change?” Lalna’s fretting questions continued to pour, his voice leagues different from before. Such higher tones Rythian could remember hearing singing cheesy love songs that morning.

A smile as he cracked his neck before Rythian answered. “No, nothing like that.” The lazy movement of twirling Lalna’s hair between his fingers was a bizarre contrast to seconds prior. Watching Lalna’s eyes gradually close from the cosiness, helped the growth of his grin.

Lifting up with now half flattened hair Lalna pursed his lips, “Then, why’d you want the scene to end?” His sight fully back on, he kept a virtually dazed view to the long fingers that dove to sweep through his hair.

With a groan and a shift of his thighs, the laugh Rythian gave croaked more than bounced. “I need to take a piss.” Rythian held a jostle in his legs, the verbal mention of it reminding him of how extreme the feeling was.

Lalna muffled a snicker against his inner cheek, not wanting to let on the hilarity he found in the reason. “And you don’t want to piss yourself as you come? You not up for that?” The shake of Rythian’s head was firm, but full words were waited on.

“Nah, not a thing of mine.”

“Okay!” Lalna’s feet sprung him up from the floor, the sheer fabric at his torso fluttered from the momentum.

Peeling himself away from the slick wooden table, Rythian felt the obvious influence over his movements again. Twisting his hips on spot, shaking his arms, the control struck as foreign with a growing itch to return it all to Lalna.

“When I come back…” His words drifted, waiting on Lalna’s head for his curious tilt, “Tie me down the other way. Facing down on the coffee table. And…” Hand to his wrists and he could practically feel the rope tight to his skin, but first was lips to his.

Delicate skin under his fingers, a warm soft body against him, familiar comforts as early rewards. All coming together, compelling the craving for his mind to swim again. Cursing his bladder for cutting it all short, emends for the moment where already piecing together in his head. The berry flavoured lip gloss fed him ideas, even still lingering on his tongue as he pulled back. His tone dipped, he needed to underline how crucial his words were.

“And when I come back I want you to spank me.”


End file.
